Work Text:
Surrounded by pages of research and academic articles redolent of freshly printed ink, for once you didn’t lament the potent fragrance of hot pages shot directly from the printer. You weren’t paying for the papers that were running through the high-end appliance at a speed that you envied.
Thankful that you were spending your winter break at your parent’s home, you were alone in the house for the next week and a half while they were travelling together for Christmas. They had wanted you to join them, but you insisted on getting ahead with your coursework. You were finally at a place where you could comfortably afford sleep, and you weren’t going to lose that progress you had fought tooth and nail for.
If they could see you now they’d be concerned. Not leaving the house in a span of several days, you had ordered groceries to the house last week, kept the blinds closed knowing that if the neighbours knew you were home they would drop in to say hi. As much as you loved your elderly neighbours in the sleepy side street near the forest’s edge, you didn’t have time to make sweet tea and speak to Orin and Nancy, your former babysitters and your parents’ favoured neighbours.
Many nights during the summer months were spent on the wraparound porch listening to Orin and Nancy’s lives, stories of their grandchildren, and their experiences in a town that was slowly changing. Now that it was winter break, you knew that from the boisterous sounds coming from their home, their children and their grandchildren were visiting for the holidays.
You had smiled at the thought; you wanted that kind of life for yourself when you could comfortably land on your feet with your own income and career. Your parents practically insisted on you being able to hold your own and not be dependent on anyone for anything, especially not in a relationship.
Admiring your mother for her independence streak and going against convention, she had turned your father down several times before she had finally agreed to a single date. He had been respectful but persistent waiting for your mother to be well-established in her career before he had tried to speak to her again.
She had told the story to you many times with a gleam in her eye and a soft smirk as she glanced at your father across the table who was slightly red-faced at his former exploits in trying to convince your mother to give him a shot.
He yearned for her, and you had to admire the demonstration of love and a healthy relationship they had provided for you growing up. Despite your father’s occupation and consistent deployments, he had been nothing if not a devoted and doting father to you and a formidable and strong partner for your mother.
He never brought his work home and when he did, he would take time to spend separately from his girls knowing that he had promised himself that work ceased to exist when he crossed that threshold. You weren’t privy to his operations, his deployments, and his relationships to prominent figures in both the military, state legislature and state senate.
Truly you knew nothing, and honestly you preferred it that way.
Fetching more papers from the printer, you were working in his office downstairs with a hot coffee beside you as you began scanning the abstracts of each article and sorting them according to what could help you write your thesis.
You had the outline completed and received the go-ahead from your professor. Armed with that approval, you had started early knowing that your other courses were going to unforgivingly kick your ass while you were down if you stumbled.
Stretching your arms over your head after setting your highlighter down, you had fetched both binder and paperclips, typed on your laptop; your disorganized process culminating in nearly a dozen tabs open in your browser as you were trying to organize your thoughts.
The copious amounts of caffeine hadn’t helped you relax, and you knew that with the clock striking closer to midnight, you were in no shape to sleep or even begin trying to rest.
Unaware of the man lurking outside of your home, your headphones were over your ears as LoFi study beats poured from each side devoid of vocal interference to assist you in focusing on your work at hand.
Taking off your blue-light glasses, you were typing with one hand and writing on a scrap piece of paper with the other. Utterly in the zone of finding your place with your materials, you didn’t hear the footsteps from above you until you noticed a long shadow in the doorway as a tall man you didn’t recognize was standing in what had been your academic sanctuary for the past week.
Finding darkened eyes before noting the rest of his attributes, you were momentarily struck by his handsome features. Delicate cheekbones above a strong jaw, a light stubble on his face below a straight nose and furrowed brow.
His umber skin was clear of scars on his face and hands as you ran your eyes up and down before you could stop yourself from inspecting him. Taller than you by several inches and far stronger than you were, you knew you didn’t stand a chance against him.
It took you a good few seconds to throw off your headphones with a loud clatter and grip the desk terrified of the stranger in your home. Even if he was befitting a catalogue as a model, you noted the plain baseball cap over his head that could easily conceal any identifying facial features. His windbreaker and dark wash jeans were something that could easily blend in with other young men in the area. Seeing the holstered weapon on his side, you knew from the lack of a facial covering he hadn’t been expecting you to be in your father’s office.
Praying to God that he was alone, you were staring in petrified silence as he blocked the doorway, your only means of escape. Your phone was charging on the bookshelf close to the door. Lamenting the power-bar being near the tall lamp that you had flicked on before starting to study, you had instinctually plugged in your device at the easiest accessible port rather than behind your father’s desk.
Your eyes darted to your phone, and he followed your glance quickly. Before you could even take a breath he was striding forward and plucking your phone from the charger and tucking it into his interior pocket of his jacket.
No words were uttered between the two of you as you watched him silently assessing the situation. There was nothing stopping him from using that weapon on you and leaving your dead body for your mother and father to find in the office where they both believed you to be safe in their absence.
The urge to cry out for your father was stronger than you had anticipated, barely able to hold in the horrified whimper that was close to emerging from your mouth, you didn’t know what to do except-
You only screamed for a total of two seconds before you were being wrenched from the desk, the office chair tipping to the ground as your fingertips slipped on the polished surface as you tried to defend yourself. Jerked against his firm body with a savage grip, a large, gloved hand wrapped around your mouth as you shook in his grasp.
You heard him mutter a low curse before he was sighing darkly.
Your arms were twisted behind you while the hand on your mouth held you taut against his body. Thinking of kicking your way to freedom, you managed to land one blow to his knee before his own leg was sweeping both of yours out from under you.
He allowed you to stumble to the floor while behind you, his grasp never flailing despite pushing you down face first on the floor, his knee pressing down on the small of your back as you gasped behind his hand.
His hand absorbed the impact as he prevented your nose from breaking on the hardwood floor. Straddling one of your legs, you were trying to writhe underneath him futilely.
He had both of your arms pinned behind your back, your body immobilized against the floor, and your only means of defence covered by his hand.
It was only when his knee moved from the small of your back to between your legs did you realize how compromised you were. Fat tears fell from your lash line and onto his hand as he pressed your wrists against your thin shirt on your back.
Clad in leggings, a thin cropped shirt with no bra, you didn’t have any layers to hide behind as you were pressed against the frigid floor. Shakily inhaling through your nose, you felt hot breath by the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t help the full body flinch you had at his proximity.
“If I move my hand, will you scream?” He questioned intently banking on your fear of him to override your panic.
He didn’t sound flustered or out of his element, merely dissatisfied that you were home.
Given enough slack you were able to shake your head. His hand retracted from your flushed skin, his fingers pulling the hair from your face as he gave you a moment to breathe.
You greedily took a few deep breaths while still feeling his knee between your legs and his weight against you. Trembling and unable to help the terror still coursing through your veins, you were still shaking.
“Have you been in the house this whole time since last Thursday?” He interrogated without delay.
You were inhaling sharply at the sudden movement of his hand against your face, but he merely stroked your cheek inadvertently as he pulled your hair from your mouth once more.
“Y-yes.” You whispered nearly inaudible.
The man let out an annoyed breath, “you kept the curtains closed and lights minimal and didn’t leave to go outside?”
Despite your fear, you were feeling slightly ashamed of being such a recluse, “I was studying.”
Your excuse was true, but you knew that your parents would have ordered you out of the house for a little while, even if just for a short walk. It seems the man above you felt the same way.
“You weren’t supposed to be here, love.” He informed you calmly as he hooked your hair behind your ear slowly as to not startle you.
You couldn’t help the small sob that escaped your traitorous lips as you forcibly closed your eyes, your cheek resting against the hardwood.
There was no hope to break from his hold or the weight on your back.
The man in your father’s office was scanning the environment, his hand resting beside your face on the floor as he knelt over you, your arms still pinned by one of his hands. You didn’t dare scream considering he could just quiet you as he had before.
You didn’t want to test his patience. You didn’t know what to make of him. Why would an Englishman be forcibly breaking into your father’s home? His accent would have been lovely to listen to if he hadn’t intruded upon your home and all but forced you to the floor.
Before you knew what he was planning, he was lifting you to your knees, his large, gloved hand grasping your hip as he urged you to your full height, your arms still pinned behind your back.
“Where are you taking me?” You couldn’t muster the courage to speak above a hushed tone, even then you were afraid of asking and him deeming you too loud.
The idea of a secondary location popped in your head, and you tried to squirm before he was gripping you tighter. Every defence course had taught you that you never ever were to allow anyone to take you to a secondary location.
Imagining yourself in a decrepit and dirty warehouse or field, you would be shot and left to be found…by passersby or wildlife who would scavenge your body, leaving crude remains for the search party to find.
Snapped out of thoughts of your impending death, you realized he didn’t answer your question as he pulled you up the stairs to the three bedrooms on the top floor of the house. Your parents’ bedroom was unlocked and door open while your bedroom door was closed. Feeling a surge of fear at where he was taking you, you struggled to get out of his grip. Trying to twist your body, you were pinned against the wall outside of the bedroom, his breath hot near your ear.
Face flush against the cool wall, you were grateful you had taken your glasses off.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will, do you understand?” His voice didn’t hold an ounce of hesitation, and you knew he was serious.
Giving him an apologetic nod as hot tears streamed down your face, he was pulling you into the master bedroom and rifling through the closet until he found what he was looking for.
He pushed you against the bed flat on your tummy. You were sprawled over the corner as he used a boot-clad foot to knock your ankles apart. Crying into the bedspread, you tried to stifle yourself as he was busying himself grabbing materials from your father’s side of the closet.
His back was turned to you, but he had slammed the bedroom door shut after dragging you inside and you knew your father’s door creaked. There was no way you wouldn’t be harmed by him after he heard the door moving, that is if you could even make it there in time before he would catch you.
He would hinder your escape, and you knew he would make good on his promise to hurt you.
Remaining still against your instinct to flee, you needed to live through this. Your parents couldn’t find your dead corpse in their bedroom. You needed to keep him calm no matter the cost. Tilting your head to see what he was grabbing, you stiffened when you realized he was grabbing your father’s suit ties from their spot in the corner of the closet.
It was a better option than duct tape, right? You were doing anything and everything to self-soothe and console yourself knowing that you had to relax. If you panicked you would do something stupid…like scream again or try to fight the man stronger and taller than you.
Caught staring at him, you quickly averted your gaze from his eyes to the hardwood floor as the man strode towards you, fabric in gloved hands. Closing your eyes when you felt him reposition your arms, you gasped when he repositioned your shoulders.
“Don’t tense. I’m not in the business of causing nerve damage.” He warned with a tone that was definitely made softer for your benefit.
“Why are you doing this?” You found yourself asking through shut eyes, your face still wet from shed tears.
You didn’t receive an answer as you felt your arms being tied in an L position behind your back. Wrists tied together at the middle of your back, you couldn’t move them, but you could still feel your hands.
Letting out a pathetic whimper when he brought your ankles together, the tie was pulled taut and uncomfortably tight as you were kept on your tummy.
Unable to move beyond wriggling pathetically, you saved yourself the embarrassment and remained still. You felt his stare on your body as you were practically on display. Your shirt was rising to your shoulders exposing your back, the leggings low on your hips, your pedicured feet bare against the cool duvet as your toes were curling.
Your hair was in your face, and you flinched when his hand once again tucked the errant strands behind your ears. One last tie remained in his hands, and he wasn’t apologetic as he set his fingers against your jaw and pushed your lips into a pout with deft fingers.
Making a displeased noise as the fabric was pushed between your teeth, he paid you no mind as he tied it tight around your head.
With no words issued, he was leaving you in the bedroom not before gently setting a throw blanket over your form, as though he were afraid of you being cold.
Your head spun with terrible thoughts of why he was being so caring. He wouldn’t be giving you nerve damage, he clearly cared for your comfort, and now he was leaving you trussed up as he was searching the house.
You let your tears fall as you worried that he was going to hurt your parents. Your safety was secondary now. You couldn’t have your mother find your body in her bed, tied down and head gaping with a bullet wound, your maggot-festered corpse a sick sight they would arrive home to.
Silently crying now that the door was closed behind him, you tried to compose yourself, but you were coming to terms with doing whatever you needed to do to survive this.
………………….
Gaz heard the girl breathing with hitched breaths before he had the chance to descend the stairs to the basement where she had been diligently working before he had all but sauntered in. Letting his footsteps hit the stairs with more force than necessary, he didn’t hide his frustration, he didn’t care to stifle his movements now that she was dealt with upstairs.
That certainly was a surprise, and he found himself irritated that his surveillance of the house was thwarted by a reclusive house-bound academic hell-bent on working through the holiday away from her family.
It was a few days to Christmas, and she was working in a dimly lit office alone in an empty house. Shaking his head, he could recognize that determined look in her eye as one he had seen in himself.
Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he didn’t know what to do with her. He couldn’t very well trust that she would keep his identity a secret now that she had seen his face. They had never crossed paths before, but stranger things had happened. Lamenting the fact that he should have followed Ghost’s footsteps and just worn a mask for this off-the-books mission, he had been confident that his surveillance was thorough.
That was a mistake he wouldn’t ever make again.
She was lying on her parents’ bed upstairs terrified of him.
She hadn’t done anything wrong; it was her father. Remembering that fact as he was searching the home for the files Price had informed him might be there, he kept his mind focused as he let his hands comb through the filing cabinet downstairs.
Lifting the office chair back into its rightful position, he heard music coming from the headphones she had all but thrown off her head at his sudden arrival. Putting an ear to one side, he let out a humored scoff at the music playing that was devoid of lyrics.
She almost hadn’t seen him in the house she was that focused.
Turning his attention to the files in front of him he frowned. Medical records…taxes, vaccination records, vet bills? Political contribution receipts…where was the intel he came for?
Continuing his search proved unfruitful as he ran a hand over his brow, his baseball cap set down on the desk next to your printed pages.
The intel Price informed him of was missing.
It was never here.
He broke into the house for no reason and terrified the lone daughter of the man they were investigating.
“Fuck!” He cursed as he slammed a fist down on the desk.
………………….
Upstairs you were testing the bonds of the ties, your ankles rubbing together as you moved your bare feet back and forth as though you were a cricket. You had stopped crying and were determined to break free, battling through panic to move.
Your arms were tucked behind your back neatly and any attempt to move your shoulders would certainly dislocate them. You could flex and feel your fingers and were thankful he hadn’t put you in a stress position that would test your joints.
Your face was buried in the duvet, but you were still able to hear footsteps ascending the stairs. Flinching when the door opened, you noted that the man who had broken into your home seemed to be detached, his eyes vacant of emotion as you stared without breathing.
He lifted the blanket without a word and pressed his gloved fingers against your skin, checking your hands, fingers, and wrists, checking the circulation you realized after a moment. Throwing it back over you without a word, he sat at the edge of the mattress, his back to you.
His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, his frown secured on his features.
You were still scared, but you were mumbling against the gag in your mouth.
The man twisted his body so that he was assessing you upon your muffled noise. Your eyes were red-rimmed and your face tear-tracked and no doubt warm to the touch. He knew you wanted to say something, despite his initial instinct to deny you the right to speak, he relented and deftly removed the gag around your mouth.
Once your lips were free from their fabric imprisonment, you were swallowing roughly before asking him in a hushed tone, “you didn’t find what you were looking for, did you?”
He frowned and watched you, his eyes scanning you as though he were piecing together a puzzle. You had seemed to calm down fractionally despite your initial terror.
“No.” He admitted curtly.
You were silent for a moment but had enough nerve to confess quietly, “he doesn’t bring work home. Whatever you’re looking for won’t be here.”
The man inhaled deeply and looked to your father’s closet.
“Please don’t hurt them.” Your eyes were closed and you nearly faltered, but you felt courageous when your eyes were closed and you didn’t have to look at him, “if you’re going to kill me, please don’t let them find me here.”
Gaz held his hand on the bedspread with his hand splayed out observing you silently, your features were pinched, but you were working through your trepidation bravely.
“Please, I won’t say anything to anyone. I promise. I know it doesn’t mean much, but I promise, and I keep my promises.”
He could hear the sincerity and persistence in your voice as you were crafting an argument for your life.
The desperate plea was one that he heard many times, but never from someone as young as you. He knew what he signed up for when he joined the service and he knew that this intel he had been searching for would protect both himself and the team, but spilling innocent blood for the sake of pre-emptive safety wasn’t something he had signed up for.
He wasn’t that far gone.
Not yet, despite the ‘line’ being jerrymandered to accommodate what the task force needed. It was a consistent effort drawing and redrawing lines for his duty at the cost of morality, but this was one line that was firmly staying etched in the sand, he decided.
“Open your eyes, love.” Gaz commanded as you hesitantly peeked at him.
Your eyes were shining with fear, a fresh wave of tears ready to fall depending on what he said next. He found himself not wanting to wield that power over you.
He did speak truthfully, “the problem is that you’ve seen my face. You’ve heard my voice; you know what I look and sound like.”
Your lip was quivering but you nodded sullenly, recognizing the genuine honesty in his voice. He watched as you took a deep breath and exhaled just as slowly, believing that these would be your last moments.
Considering what he had done and how he had scared you, you were handling this much better than most men facing death. You were trying to be dignified but what you didn’t know was that he was never going to hurt you.
Despite following his conscience in not leaving you a corpse for your parents to find, he needed leverage of any kind to keep you quiet. He knew you would keep quiet, but an incentive would protect the both of you.
It was time to share a secret, however sordid it may be to an outsider.
“What would you do for them?” He demanded not letting his tone betray what he was thinking.
You were taken aback for a moment, but you answered through a frown, your voice low as though you were afraid to answer, “I-I would do anything.”
He tilted his head and didn’t let his eyes waver from yours as he pressed, “anything?”
You weren’t able to look away from him as he asked for clarification.
You were giving him a nod against the bedspread, a slow realization dawning on your face as you recognized what he was referring to. He expected you to scream again, to sob, to fight him with thrashing movements and bared teeth. Instead you were steeling yourself and clenching your fists from under the blanket he had delicately placed over your body when he left you to search for the papers that Price had been sure that were in the same office in which you were working.
“Do you promise they won’t know?” That was the first question that emerged from your mouth but was firm to Gaz’s surprise.
“They won’t find out. If they do, it’ll be because you told them.”
You looked scandalized, features twisting in shame, horrified at the thought, “I wouldn’t-I can’t-they can’tknow-”
“They won’t.” He interrupted you with a gentleness you didn’t expect.
You couldn’t believe that this is how your night had turned.
Sex for your silence. If you uttered a word about this then your parents would know what this man had done and what had happened when they left you at home during Christmas. The shame of your parents knowing what had happened was too mortifying to even put into words. Your father would never forgive himself; your mother would never look at you the same, your relationship with your parents would irrevocably change.
The guilt, the shame, and the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness at the loss of normalcy between your tight-knit family would prove to be too much, and the man who had kept you imprisoned in your parents’ bedroom knew that.
A small voice was whispering in the back of your mind that this was one of the exact scenarios that several of those novels you read under the covers in secret contained in their sordid pages. A tall and handsome man ravishing the young protagonist who didn’t suspect a thing in the safety of her home.
How many times did you imagine yourself in the main character’s shoes? Some of those women had been afraid at first, surprised by the appearance of a man who for all intents and purposes wanted to slake his own needs using them.
Those situations were different, weren’t they? He hadn’t attacked you and forcibly made you do anything. He had stashed you upstairs and left you alone while he tried to focus on what he was trying to find before returning to deal with what he deemed a problem.
You were a problem. An unaccounted variable in his otherwise well-thought-out plan. He hadn’t expected a recluse to be working downstairs pouring over academic papers like they were at risk of extinction.
You were agreeing to this…it wasn’t duress. You weren’t objecting to what he wanted, were you?
He hadn’t been rough with you, but what if he was going to be violent?
Despite this…arrangement between the two of you, you needed to know.
“You’re not going to hurt me?” You hated how weak your voice sounded, but you were still anxious about this entire situation.
You were going to be fucked by a stranger that had broken into your home in exchange for your silence, you had a right to ask that, didn’t you?
Before he could answer, your mind was running through the possibilities of what could happen. The sex you previously had, had been with two other young men separated by months apart and both were too busy working to get themselves off to consider your own pleasure.
You had given up on the men in your university after two disappointing interactions where you hadn’t even cum.
Would this be as lackluster? Was he clean? Were you going to get an STI?
The man sensing your burgeoning distress by the pinch of your features was speaking to you calmly.
“No love, I’m not going to hurt you.” He promised.
Still seeing the hesitation on your features, he was finding himself answering the questions he thought you might be too afraid to ask.
“Clean bill of health.” He announced stoically.
He raised a brow to you as if he were silently confirming your own status and you nodded with a dip of your chin.
“I-” You paused for a moment nearly afraid to inform him, “I don’t have any condoms.”
The man’s lips turned up in the ghost of a smile, “I didn’t exactly stop off at the chemist before arriving here.”
So he was going to be fucking you without any barrier.
“O-okay, I uhm, I have an IUD.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you knew he was listening to you and your hesitation.
A stretch of silence befell the room, before you were recognizing which bed you were laying on.
“Not here.” You pleaded desperately.
At your request, the man tilted his head but was firm, “it’ll be in here.”
“But-” You tried to protest with a weak voice.
He silenced you with a mere glance, the authority in his burning gaze causing a shiver to crawl down your spine and your stomach to pool with heat.
………………..
There was no delay as he was peeling the throw blanket off your body, inspecting from your soft bare feet to the curve of your calves to your spread thighs still clad in dark leggings, up your shoulders where your top was riding up and falling to the side.
Laid on your tummy with your arms tied behind your back and face on the bedspread, he had untied the restraints around your ankles first. You weren’t aware of what he was doing behind you, but when his hands settled on the waist of your leggings you stiffened instinctually.
Before you could force an apology to tumble from your slackened mouth, he was using both hands now devoid of gloves to grasp your hips and press you down, the pressure oddly soothing despite everything.
“I meant what I said, love. I’m not going to hurt you.” He reminded you softly.
You swallowed and gave a nod closing your eyes and willing your body to relax.
This was happening. You agreed. You hadn’t exactly said ‘yes’ but that didn’t matter now, you knew what he had been alluding to and were willing to go along with it
It was too late to back out now.
His splayed hands were on your inflamed skin, the pads of his thumbs gently rubbing smooth circles as he waited for you to stop tensing. Desperately trying to be good so he didn’t lose his patience, you were acquiescing and settling back down into the bedspread, your hands clenched but your body not stiff as a board.
“There’s a girl.” He commended.
His voice was molten as he peeled your leggings off, leaving you in your cheeky seamless panties and cropped shirt. His fingers slowly trailed up your legs to pull your underwear down. You didn’t lift your hips to help him, but he had no problem sliding the fabric down your thighs to your ankles.
Bottom exposed, you were trying not to panic but when his hands reached your hips once more he was kneading your skin. When he paused for a moment you were frozen, uncertain of what he was looking at until a hand reached over your head to grab a pillow from your mother’s side of the bed.
Positioning the pillow under your hips, you were expecting a brutal thrust to begin but you gasped when you felt his hands spreading your thighs and his hot and wet mouth on your slit. Torrid and intensely slow licks to your spread legs nearly made you want to immediately snap your legs closed, but with your arms immobilized and your thighs parted by deft and strong hands, you knew you had no hope of escaping what he was doing to you and how it was starting to feel.
The sense of shame his tongue slowly brushing against your folds brought you as you had your head buried in the duvet was slowly beginning to erode. Hands clenching behind you, you felt his hands squeezing the fat of your thighs as he ate you out like a man starved.
Laving attention to your hole while ensuring his tongue caressed your clit, you nearly jolted when you felt the tip of his nose brush against your rim.
God, he wasn’t going to try to do that…you prayed.
You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until he was pulling himself away from your folds for a moment, his wide palms still spreading your thighs apart.
“Love, I’m not going to hurt you.” He reiterated without an ounce of judgment in his voice or sound of annoyance.
You swallowed nervously as he was waiting for you to calm down.
Unable to voice such a thing, you were letting your shoulders fall back. Awarded with a kiss between your legs, he wasted no time in returning to your sopping cunt.
The sounds of your wet pussy would have embarrassed you if not for the building pressure as he was slaking his thirst on swallowing down your juices as you fought not to squirm against his grasp.
You moaned quietly before you could stifle yourself.
Hearing a humored scoff behind you, you heard his voice from between your legs.
“Shy girl, hmm?”
You knew it was a rhetorical question, so you didn’t deign to respond, but when you felt his hand slide from your thigh to between your legs, you let out a started gasp when an impossibly thick finger replaced his tongue abruptly.
It didn’t hurt as much as it was a slight shock. You had been enjoying the attention of his tongue and his slow ministrations.
“You’re so tight love, you need to relax for me.” He encouraged without being cruel.
You didn’t know why, but you apologized sincerely, feeling your face warm in a sense of embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry.”
You heard him slightly sigh behind you, but you felt your body jerk as his finger crooked inside of you, reaching farther than you could ever dream of going with your own fingers.
Letting out a noise of surprise at the sudden movement, you were taking even breaths and trying to remain silent as to not embarrass yourself.
Closing your eyes as his finger explored between your folds, you were trying to be good but found yourself nearly sputtering when his thumb rested on your tight rim.
Immediately he was recognizing the reason for your trepidation.
“I’m not going to take you here.” He promised genuinely, “although…”
Your stomach dropped at his seeming change of heart as you could feel his stare boring into you. You were trapped underneath him, a defenseless butterfly waiting for your wings to be poked and prodded if not ripped off by the man above you who was inspecting you not only as though you were a mere means to an end, but something to be used before discarding.
Aware of your vulnerability and inability to defend yourself, your feet flexed against the duvet, the softness of the cover doing nothing to soothe your inflamed skin. Scrunching your toes as you clenched your fists in your makeshift restraints, you had closed your eyes and prepared to be fractured despite his dulcet promises.
Before you could protest audibly in the form of a petrified whimper, you felt a wet splat of fluid against your tight ring of muscle.
He had spit on you. Blinking in disbelief, you inhaled sharply when he swiped his thumb between your folds and gathered your juices to lubricate your rim.
“Please, please-” You tried to begin but cut yourself off knowing it was futile.
Your panicked whimpers were paid to mute ears as he gently pressed on the ring of muscle and massaged your rim before slowly testing your resistance.
He promised not to hurt you. From everything you had read, it would hurt you if you clenched or tried to squeeze him out. Forcing yourself to inhale, you loosened your shoulders and legs, praying you could trust his honeyed assurances.
His thumb was slowly working its way inside of you while his finger remained in your tight channel stroking your walls soothingly. With no choice but to bite the bedspread to muffle your desperate whimper, you tucked your head into the duvet as his thumb was unhurried in its goal of breaching your rim.
Breathing heavily into the blanket that was between your teeth, you winced when his middle finger began to glacially circle your clit in measured movements.
His hand was cupping between your legs, thumb poised over your tight rim, index finger slowly working inside to stretch you, while his middle finger was brushing against your clit in small but measured circles as you were trying not to cry out in a mixture of shock and discomfort at the foreign sensations where his thumb rested.
The pleasure you felt as he was caressing your walls with his thick finger overrode the foreign sensation of him placing pressure on the tight ring of muscle. Letting out a moan into the blanket, you couldn’t stifle the sounds that went from panicked gasps to prolonged breaths.
If he heard you trying to stifle yourself, he didn’t make mention of it, he merely held your thighs open with his forearm and his other hand that was squeezing the fat of your cheek.
His thumb finally slid through puckered flesh and despite the initial panic you had felt at the sensation, he was cautiously dragging his thumb in and out, watching as you inadvertently clenched around him.
His finger in your channel coupled with his thumb inside the tight ring of muscle, you were experiencing a sense of fullness you hadn’t ever felt before. No one had dared done this to you and you were biting the duvet trying to keep your moans minimal. The way he was consistently spitting on your rim, the hot splash of fluid was easing the way for his thumb to glide through without discomfort.
His thumb was oppressively thick, his knuckle brushing against the muscle as the widest portion of his digit was making you keen and shake under his heavy body.
You didn’t have any lubricant or condoms or anything that could ease the strain you feared would be coming. As you were consumed with thoughts of what was going to happen next, you were brought back to the present when his middle finger joined his index in your hole.
Crying out into the duvet, you could taste the laundry detergent your mother used to wash their bedding as you squeezed your eyes shut at the sensation of his ring finger against your clit.
Your hips were propped up by the wide pillow and as Gaz was staring at his hand working you over, he tilted his head to see you scrunching your face, your eyes shut tight as you were biting the bedspread with bared teeth.
He didn’t think he was hurting you, but he had made you a promise and wasn’t in the nature of breaking his sincerely uttered word to you. Leaving his hand still for a moment, he watched as you hesitantly cracked open your eyes, your lash line wet with fat tears that were pooling on the blanket under your face.
The sounds you were making were noises he hadn’t ever heard any partner make before-suddenly he had a thought that crossed his mind that gave him pause.
“Love…you’ve been with a partner before?” He pressed, keeping the uncertainty and hesitation from his voice with a level tone.
You took a moment to answer but you merely nodded without looking at him when he wanted further details.
“You’ve been played with like this?”
He didn’t want to embarrass you, but he needed to know the level of your experience before he did anything that would make him break his promise.
He saw a twist of shame on your face as you shook your head no.
Gaz was frowning, “you’ve been with other men?”
He noticed your hand moving in your bonds as you kept one hand clenched while the other painstakingly brought your index and middle finger out display a ‘two’ clearly.
“They didn’t do this for you?” He was incredulous.
You were overwhelmed and he knew from your facial features that this was uncomfortable for you to bring up these details to him.
He couldn’t stop the next question that he had to ask, “did they even make you cum?”
Your shake of your head was small, and he closed his eyes and fought the urge to press his palm to his brow in utter disbelief.
They hadn’t taken care of the beautiful girl they had in the palm of their hand. Tossers, the lot of them.
Realizing that he was going to be the first one to bring you the pleasure you deserved, he was ready to put his experience to work to have you enjoy yourself rather than being anxious of what he was doing to you before he found his own end.
“Am I hurting you?” He questioned in a stoic tone, trying to reign in his annoyance at the young men you had been with before.
You were shaking your head in a visible no against the bedspread, and he found himself issuing another promise, “this is going to feel good for you, I promise.”
Seeing your slight nod that was apprehensive, he was leaning over you to plant his lips against your clenched fist that was tucked against your back as you hadn’t disturbed the restraints.
Feeling you clench around his fingers at the subtle movement, he was smirking to himself as he realized that you needed a gentleness he was more than ready to bestow.
Returning to his ministrations between your legs, his thumb was still nestled in your rim when he took his fingers out of your walls abruptly and replaced them with his hot mouth that was languidly laving attention to your labia and up to your clit.
You were utterly soaked despite your reluctance to loosen your shoulders. Urging you to feel and think of nothing but his hot tongue and sturdy thumb inside of you, he was spreading your thighs further apart and gently suckling your clit.
Letting his teeth brush against your clit as he lavished attention on your sweet spot, he felt you tense and shake as you gasped and moaned into the bedspread. Drinking down your juices as you shook between his body, he realized you had a small orgasm despite you fighting it.
Refusing to let that be the only one you had, he kept his tongue circling your clit and slid his fingers back into your hole. His face was flush between your thighs as he spread you open and nearly lifted your thighs off the pillow where they were resting.
The overwhelming sensations were causing you to cry out, pleasure transitioning into overstimulation as you began to feel more tears stream down your face.
Your pleas were broken and pitiful and you knew you sounded like a spoiled pillow princess as you begged him, “ah, ah, please, please!”
Once more your cries were unheeded as he merely kept suckling and laving attention with his tongue that circled your clit while his fingers crooked inside of you. The thumb inside of you was firmly set and hadn’t moved a millimetre as you were writhing underneath him.
Unable to help the choked moan that emerged from your mouth, you were inhaling shaky breaths between pants trying to close your legs around his head for a reprieve.
After a moment of intense pleasure bordering on pain, you felt a snap in your abdomen as you came too soon after your first orgasm. Blubbering into the duvet, you felt his fingers and mouth retract with a smooth pop as he eased his thumb out of your rim.
Finally able to breathe after a moment, you tensed when he was undoing the restraints that kept your arms behind your back. As the fabric slid from your skin, you didn’t have a moment to embrace your freedom when he was peeling your crop top off over your head, raising your limp arms quickly.
Fully nude in front of him, you flinched when he grasped your shoulders and turned you onto your back. Unable to break away from his eyes, you saw a mirth in them that would have been charming to you if you had met him anywhere else.
Your hands were clasped in the bedspread as you watched him pull his shirt over his head and deposit the article on the ground. His chest was smattered with dark hair leading to a happy trail. Watching him unbuckling his pants, you glanced at the closed door before you could help it.
He didn’t have to look at you to know what you were thinking, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Feeling called out for what you viewed as a transgression, you were looking to the closed curtains you knew contained a view of Orin and Nancy’s house.
You heard his pants fall to the floor and you looked at his naked body before you could stop yourself. Standing in front of you at the foot of the bed, his skin was covered with evidence of his work. Scars in variations of bullet wounds, knife slashes, and some you couldn’t identify were on raised skin that were scattered on his chest, his ribs, his abdomen, and one close to his happy trail.
You didn’t mean to stare at his marred skin, but it was better than looking at the large cock hanging low between his legs, hard and thick. Giving it a fast glance before looking back up to his chiseled chest, you were more nervous about him trying to work that inside of you than anything else.
Seemingly forgetting that you were also naked, you were only focused on him as he was inspecting every inch of your skin. Even after everything you had just been through, you were still tense even after two forced orgasms.
You didn’t know what was worse, enjoying the time he was between your legs and sucking your clit like it was his only mission or that you learned you enjoyed the feeling of being full when he had his thumb in your rim and two thick fingers between your legs.
As you were lost in your own thoughts, you momentarily jolted when the mattress dipped and you felt his hands on your knees, parting your legs to see your swollen clit and dripping folds.
On your back, you placed your hands on your stomach instead of the bedspread unsure of where they should go considering you didn’t want them to be restrained any longer.
He hadn’t gagged you since and you almost wished he had kept you tied up with the gag in your mouth to conceal the noises you had made. He hadn’t teased you for it. No condescending or patronizing words emerged from his mouth, his promise not to hurt you extended to your feelings, not just your physical wellbeing.
It had been embarrassing to admit your inexperience, but considering you just learned what a man’s mouth could truly do, you weren’t going to leave this experience with only regret.
His hand that hadn’t been inside of you was cradling your face softly, his eyes focused on yours as you tried to look away from him unable to handle his delicate gaze. He didn’t allow that to come to pass, reorienting your focus by letting his fingers trail up your scalp and snake in your tresses, grasping your head by your hair. Forced to look hopelessly into his eyes, you were met with a warmth and mischievousness you weren’t expecting.
Your poor mind couldn’t tell if his stare was of reverence or punishment. His finger wiped an errant tear from your face as you craned your neck up, his hand still woven in your hair keeping you still and unable to look away.
You could feel his erection on the soft skin of your thigh, and you tried not to stiffen, afraid that his patience would run out and you would be hurt despite his whispered promises.
He didn’t break eye contact when he let his hand trail back between your legs to feel your sopping cunt. Taking your slick and coating his length, he didn’t let you look down as he kept your focus on him.
Gazing at the dark circles under his eyes and a fatigue his warm irises couldn’t hide, you were seeing an open vulnerability from him as he wasn’t forcing you to be on your stomach or have your eyes hidden from him. He was allowing you to look at him before he was about to fall inside of you.
As he was inching closer you were pressing your shaking hands against his chest with your palms flat against thick dark hair, slightly alarmed, “wait, wait, please.”
He sat above you completely still and without condemnation between your spread thighs and waited for you to continue speaking. You swallowed nervously and closed your eyes, taking a breath before forcing your shoulders to loosen once more.
He had taken time to wring out two orgasms from you and despite your swollen clit and slightly sore walls, you were taking a moment to compose yourself.
Your eyes were still closed as you whispered, “I’m sorry. I just-”
“Breathe.” He instructed softly from above you, “take your time.”
Given a grace you were sure he wouldn’t afford to anyone else, you were trying to be calm for both of your sakes. Letting your legs fall further open, you opened your eyes to find him leaning in to kiss your brow.
Feeling the softness of his lips against your inflamed skin, you were sure he wasn’t going to be rough or violent.
He hadn’t moved your hands from his chest, but you were setting them down by your sides, certain that he didn’t want your hands in the way as he was trying to position you the way he wanted.
His hand abandoned your hair and instead he positioned his hands on your hips as he was leaning between your split thighs. Fingers splayed against your skin you inhaled sharply when you felt the tip of his cock caress your clit in a teasing movement.
Before you could stop yourself, you were gripping his wrists to ground yourself when his hands pressed against your soft unmarred skin.
He let out a small, humored sigh as he realized you weren’t trying to pry his hands off you. Coated in your slick that was slowly drooling from your cunt, you were gazing up at the ceiling as he languidly pushed into your entrance.
The head of his cock was manageable, and you were relaxed as he slowly encroached further. Too soon did discomfort rear its ugly head and you were grasping his wrists with stronger force.
His girth was larger than any other cock you had taken, and you knew with his length, it would be a trial to fully take him. You found yourself wishing he was smaller in size. His thick and heavily veined cock retreated glacially while his hand slithered from underneath yours to gently circle your clit.
Closing your eyes in surprise and letting out a pained whine, he didn’t comment as he smoothly ran his thumb around your clit in tender circles, aware that he had forced two orgasms earlier by not surrendering your clit, pushing you into overstimulation.
The sensation of being toyed with again and having him overtop of you was too much to handle while facing him. It was easier when your face had been buried in the bedspread. You wanted to look away from him, but you knew he would be upset if you did. It was an unspoken expectation but one you needed to fulfill.
Opening your eyes to find him solely focused on how your cunt was clenching around the head of his cock, he was assessing how he could do this without hurting you.
“Deep breath, love.” He instructed as he watched your chest rise and fall.
To his credit, the deep breath did help. As you exhaled he pressed in further. You were trying to deal with the sharp discomfort as he stretched your walls and was making his way to kiss your cervix with his cock.
Being taken was a trial but you were soothed by the consistent rolls of his thumb against your swollen clit as you moaned, unable to help the noises that were punched out of you at his ministrations. His body tensed when you clenched hard around his cock, inhaling on a gasp when he pushed himself halfway in.
“Ohmygod.” You moaned pathetically as you kept still.
The man above you was pushing harder against your clit with his thumb as you writhed uncomfortably, legs shaking.
The man hushed you softly, letting his cock retreat, his glans encased by your folds as you took another breath.
You were feeling claustrophobic, and you were breathing in heightened anxiety, “just rip off the Band-Aid, please. Just force yourself in, fuck, I can’t, I can’t-”
“No.” He was firm, “I’m not going to hurt you, love. Now be sweet for me and keep breathing, you’re doing well.”
At his soft assurance, you wondered if he were a gentle sadist or overzealous coach believing you to be capable of doing this without it hurting you.
After a few painstaking minutes where he was leading you through your breathing did he finally encase himself inside of you to your disbelief.
Gasping as you didn’t feel him itching closer and closer, you realized that his full length was encompassed by your walls.
“You…you fit?” You were shocked and couldn’t help the question as you clenched around his cock.
Seeing his eyes close quickly for a moment at your ministration, you tilted your head and squeezed your walls around him once more, testing his resolve and your pain tolerance.
His cock was more than snug inside of you, a delicious stretch and burn accompanied the fullness as you realized you needed a moment to adjust.
“Keep that up, we’ll be going for multiple rounds.” He warned without bite as he took in a steadying breath.
You stayed still feeling fuller than ever, his encouraging talk and breathing helping you take him to the root. You could feel his pubic hair caressing your clit as he was leaned over you.
“God, even relaxed, you’re bloody tight.” He groaned as he held a splayed hand on your hip while his other hand was pressing against your navel.
You were feeling oddly satisfied that your walls were causing him this much pleasure without having to do much, but he needed to know what you thought: “you’re too big.”
He opened his eyes at that small comment and smirked down at you, “first time that it’s ever been an issue.”
Your thighs burned with the stretch of remaining open for him. He wasn’t moving but you knew he was about to when you felt him slowly extricate himself from your hot, wet walls.
He was allowing you a moment to acclimatize yourself to him being inside of you as you were coming back to yourself, the tears long since disappeared from your face and lash line as you steadied yourself and listened to him.
Grateful he had taken his time; you knew that you would have tore if he had tried to do what your former partners had done.
Shuddering as he languidly pulled out and pushed in without a word, you were closing your eyes and gripping the forearm that was pressing down on your navel.
Your breath hitched as he began to thrust faster and reached further inside of you, his cock bumping against your cervix with a pressure that was just on the side of the pleasure but skirting the line of pain.
The tension in your tummy was mounting when he suddenly moved his hand from your hip to splaying his palm over the wood of the headboard, curling his fingers around the smooth surface, thrusting forward with increased momentum.
Letting out a tortured breath, you were clenching your walls in an effort to slow his movements, his cock heavy and thick in your too-tight hole. Trying to encompass himself fully in your slick heat, you swallowed a gasp as he battered your walls with steady thrusts that had you struggling to acclimatize.
Pressing down harshly on your navel, you let your legs clamp around his thighs as you tried in vain to get him to slow down.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Moans were being punched out of you with every thrust as you closed your eyes and winced.
Focusing on the ceiling when you did open your eyes rather than the concentrated look on his face, you shook and grasped his hand with a firmer grip hoping you could wordlessly communicate.
“Oh god.” You were in dismay that he was going to hurt you after all, “please, please, ahh, ahh!”
Hearing the panic in your voice, he was slowing down but continuing to push as far in as he could go as you writhed underneath him.
“Breathe.” He commanded with a fractured groan.
“Can’t.” You rasped as you began pushing his chest not caring that you agreed to this arrangement.
Hearing a grunt above you, he was sliding out of your folds and his hands were turning you from your back onto your side, forcing one of your knees to your chest as your other leg was lifted over his hip.
Fetching your arms and pinning your wrists behind your back, you were at his mercy as he angled your hips to meet his punishing thrusts. Crying out in shock rather than pain, you were realizing that for all his promises, he had kept them.
You weren’t in pain, just overwhelmed and overstimulated.
Clutching the bedspread with hands fisted in the material, you were biting your lip while he was still maintaining the same rhythm without paying your inner turmoil much mind.
His hips stuttered against your spread thighs as you finally forced yourself to submit and go limp into the bed, knowing that’s what he wanted for you.
“Finally understand that I’m not hurting you and that you’re panicking for no reason?” His tone wasn’t malicious, more amused as he pointed out, “you’re safe, love. I’m not doing anything you don’t want.”
He let your wrists go and you clutched your arms to your chest after grabbing a pillow from your mother’s side of the bed. Cradling it to your body, you let your head rest on the soft material as your lower body was being jolted upwards.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You whispered repeated apologies over the sounds of your squelching cunt.
You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for: being in your parents’ home in the first place, crying out when he was taking the time to make sure you got off, or because of how pathetic your experience was before.
You were unable to form any other coherent thought among the overstimulation, sensations and sounds as your panicked breaths met the cacophony of shlick noises that were emerging steadily from your sopping cunt as his hips battered against yours.
Gaz witnessed your eyes fluttering and facial features pinched as the shame of the situation was getting to you. Slowing his movements, he knew he had to work to calm you down once more.
Your apologies weren’t necessary nor were they giving him any solace.
Positioning himself behind you and letting your knee fall back, he reached for your hand gently. You were having trouble maintaining eye contact with him and making this easier for you would help him reach his own end faster. He didn’t want to see you panicking or on the verge of tears like you had been earlier.
A different position was necessary.
Holding you close and in a cossetting grip, his mouth was against the shell of your ear as he spoke in a soothing low voice.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke sincerely and in a softer tone that was now beginning to match his unhurried thrusts that he hadn’t ceased, “I should have been more careful. If I knew you were here, love, I wouldn’t have come in. Much less scared you as much as I have already.”
You were listening with a heavy heart as he held you close to his sweat-slicked body. Your mind was struggling to keep up with ever-changing emotions and sensations that made it feel as though your brain was leaking out of your ears.
Despite his apologies, he was angling his hips to slide back into your heat again and again.
His kind words managed to strike a chord as you loosened against his hold and leaned your head back against his chest. Finding it easier to tuck your body against his and hide your face in your hands, you were looking for a sense of solace and comfort even if it was from the man who had terrified you.
You were alone and at the mercy of a man who had threatened to harm you, and he understood that.
“You’re a good girl that shouldn’t be caught up in this. After tonight, I promise you’ll never see me again.” He said as he held a hand over your abdomen as he pulled you flush against his body.
Feeling your toes scrunch against his shins, he knew that the slow pace was just what you needed to recover from being overwhelmed.
You stiffened in his hold and for a moment he nearly fooled himself into thinking that you wanted to see him again after he issued his promise.
“Okay.” You whispered sadly as you held his hands against your tummy, abandoning your face.
He was lazily pushing himself into your hole as you took deeper and even breaths.
“You deserve to feel good, love.”
You were feeling your face heat with embarrassment at the compliments, and he knew it from the look on your face you weren’t expecting the praise, but he could tell it was making you more relaxed.
“Just let me do all the work.” He urged, his hips rolling against you sensually.
Falling against his chest listening to his commands, it was far easier than resisting his orders.
“That’s the way.” He professed, “such a good girl, love.”
Closing your eyes as he focused solely on your pleasure, he was softly holding your body as he thrusted gently, not fulling encasing himself in your wet cunt.
Your murmured moans leaked from your mouth as you tried to muffle yourself but failed.
“God the sounds you make.” He admitted aloud in a fractured groan, “please don’t hide them.”
You felt the pillow being taken from your hands, but you allowed him to set it to the side.
“C’mon love, show me what you got.” He encouraged tenderly.
Grinding against your folds, he pressed his fingers against your clit, and you gasped breathily without hesitating.
“I want all of those sounds.” He ordered you.
………………….
The concept of time was beyond you as you came for the umpteenth time as he was spooning you against his sweat-slicked chest after taking you on your side, claiming you while you were positioned on his lap, and finally making you ride him. Crying out and allowing yourself to let the moans freely tumble out of your tongue-tied mouth, you were following his instructions beautifully.
He had taken pity on you when he tucked your legs around his back as he held himself in your heat while you shook around his cock. With you situated in his lap, it was one of his favourite positions and he was able to lose himself as he tilted your head up and kissed you deeply.
You were receptive to his advances, your lips softening against his tasting of strawberry ChapStick before the tang of your juices was on your lips as he continued to kiss you deeply.
You had kept your eyes closed when he kissed you, but your hands were splayed against his chest, trapped between the two of you as he held your bottom and pulled you back and forth easily. Moaning into his mouth, he was regretful that he promised this would be the last time you would see him.
You were slowly easing up with the time that had passed, your body finally melting against his as the fatigue wore down your panic and the rush of adrenaline faded.
He knew he was limited on time, but he was hushing you as you winced when he pulled himself from your heat. Positioning you on your tummy once more, he had kept himself on the edge of finishing.
Your tight walls were continuously choking his cock, and he was taking his fill of your body before he would retreat from your home.
As you were maneuvered onto your tummy, you were dazedly wondering if he was holding himself off to keep fucking you without a care or worry in the world.
He was overtop of your back as his hand was wrapped around your throat. Despite the horribly dominant position he was in over you, he wasn’t hurting you.
You were exhausted, more than sore, but you were limp and allowing him to use you, each orgasm taking more of your energy as your clit twinged with consistent abuse.
Fucking you while you were prone on your parents’ bed, you should have been more mortified, but the promise of this being a secret was enough to have you start to enjoy his ministrations.
Your brain was melting, you were sure of it as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo.
“Iwantyoutocum.” You murmured tiredly.
He tilted his head and moved your face from the pillow to hear you clearly.
“Say again love?”
You were swallowing around your thick tongue that felt syrupy and heavy, “Iwantyoutocum.”
He let out a humored scoff, “you want me to come?”
You hummed your assent as he chuckled against your hair.
“I need you on your back, love.” He informed you.
You were exhausted but you acquiesced and crawled out from underneath him with difficultly as he lifted himself from your back. Your legs were shaking as you turned to face his handsome features, his warm chocolate eyes roaming your sluggish body.
“I need you to be a sweet girl for me, this might feel like it’s too much. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
You shook your head and uttered words he never thought would emerge from your mouth, “use me until you finish.”
The statement ricocheted in his head like a bullet in his brain, the sentiment echoing darkly as you willingly spread your legs under him.
It only took fucking you stupid and to the point of exhaustion to have you agree to being used like a personal toy.
Without delay he was grasping under your knees and forcing your thighs to your chest, thrusting into your swollen cunt. You were closing your eyes, but he didn’t mind as he watched the head of his cock disappear between your wet heat that was tightening around him.
The visual of your body accepting him was enough to have him close to coming. He had been edging himself for close to two hours.
He lost count of how many orgasms he wrung out of you all the while withholding his own.
Lost in your wet heat, he was pressing forward until he hit your cervix, your slick lips stretched around the root of his cock.
“Fuck.” He moaned as you clenched around him unable to help yourself.
You pressed a hand against your navel as you groaned, you swore you could feel him through your skin. Applying more pressure, he hitched a breath above you, and you could see him closing his eyes in pleasure.
“Do that again.” He demanded breathlessly.
You were so blissed out that you listened without second guessing his request, pressing against your navel and clenching as he was fighting to stay inside of you, his cock nearly being smothered by smooth sweltering pressure.
“Christ, love, I’m close.” He warned while glancing up at the ceiling.
From your angle below him you could see his neck straining with the movement, his veins visible as he began to shudder and bite his lip as you felt a burst of warmth inside of you.
His hands retracted from your knees and your thighs began to shake in his hands as he set your legs down, a thick dribble of his cum dripping down your thighs as he withdrew.
Breathing heavily for a moment, he soon composed himself to inspect you.
Your skin was sweat slicked and your eyes nearly vacant. You were boneless against the mattress; arms limp while your legs were still shaking.
Rising to his feet, he decided to make another impulsive decision as he lifted you from the bed and into the bathroom across the hall. You were glancing at your knees that were still weak as he brought you into the master bathroom.
“What…?” You were uncertain as to what he was doing but didn’t have the energy to protest.
“Shh.” He commanded as he set you down on the edge of the wide tub and began fiddling with the facet.
Without a word he was plugging the tub and admiring how large it was. He could comfortably fit in with you in his lap. The least he could do for you was clean the mess he made.
In more ways than one.
…………………
The soothing scent of hibiscus filled your nostrils as the man behind you had washed your hair, conditioned it, and had set it in a clip as he delicately washed your back with a cloth.
You were convinced this was something you had come up with considering that this was playing out as a Benadryl-induced dream.
His hands were steady as he was rubbing your skin with silken body soap.
You were fatigued but you had to tell him in a whisper, “…you don’t have to do this.”
“I do.” His voice was steadfast and calm.
There was a twinge of discomfort between your legs but not the pain you were imagining you would have to contend with after your arrangement had concluded. He had listened when you had asked him to wait.
“Would you have stopped if I said no?” You asked before you could stop yourself.
The cloth that had been rubbing you abruptly stopped gliding on your skin.
He paused but lied to you.
“No.”
Despite only knowing him for a few hours, his slight hesitation was enough for you to know he wasn’t telling you the truth, he hadn’t lied to you all night, but he was lying now.
You weren’t going to press him, you merely inhaled deeply and let your back rest against his chest. You would let him keep that secret even if you knew it was bullshit.
Too soon were you lifted from the warm water and set on your feet on the bathmat.
You wrapped a towel around yourself on your own as he did the same. He left you in the bathroom while you sat on the edge of the tub watching the water circle the drain funneling as it was sucked down the drain.
The door to the bathroom was closed, and you brushed your teeth and prepared for bed not willing to face the task of cleaning your parents’ room until you had a good night’s rest.
You took several minutes to emerge uncertain of what to expect him to say, but when you stepped out from the bathroom, you hesitantly walked into the bedroom to find that his clothes were gone. Your phone was on the bed in clear view, your clothes folded neatly beside your device.
He had left without a word.
……………………
The following morning, you began your day by washing your parents’ bedding, cleaning their room, opening the windows to air out the room, and going back to your work downstairs.
You had time between washes to do some more writing, not wanting the events of last night to derail your progress.
Walking into the office with an iced coffee in hand, you paused when you saw his baseball cap on the desk. Cautiously plucking it from the wooden surface, you inspected the plain hat without an emblem or insignia. Turning it around to see inside the cap, you frowned at the interior tag that had a K. Garrick written in permanent marker.
A surname to the face…you wondered if you should do some digging when you were back in your own apartment.
He had taken a souvenir in the form of your burgundy panties, and it seemed he had left you one in return.
Garrick, you thought to yourself, not a very common last name.
He had promised you that last night was the last time you would ever see him, but you hadn’t made that promise in return. With a surname, it would take time, but you would find him.